Her Husband's Rival

nine

I leave my room as soon as I hear hers closing. I'm fiery beneath my cool exterior. And knowing she’s about three rooms down mine, cleaning up and getting ready to sleep, doesn’t make it any better.

There’s an ache in my fist but it doesn’t feel enough. Her husband hit her. Hit her. I’d just come home after dropping Janki off at the airport and paying a visit to Veer when I realised Anaya still hadn’t arrived. I’d tried calling her phone—Janki gave me her number before leaving—but it came back switched off. After an hour of contemplating, thinking maybe she was stuck in traffic or something, I couldn’t just sit straight anymore so I grabbed my laptop and signed into the device I had fixed in their living room.

And then I played the recording, over and over again until my teeth were clenching so hard I was afraid they’d fall off. The pain was unbearable and the rage I felt even worse. My hand was up in the air and I was knocking down my coffee table before I’d even realised what I was doing.

The sting of those glass pieces hurt but I deserved it. As if on autopilot, I’d gotten the medical box from the kitchen and wrapped up my hand mindlessly, focused only on what Anaya was doing. Where she was. If she was safe.

And then she’d showed up.

Everything settled as I looked at her and then my rage bubbled up even more at her cheek that had started to swell.

I push my nails into my palm as I stalk out of my home and get in my car. I’m probably breaking every traffic rule known to man as I drive past the familiar streets until I’m in front of the one building that’s been my haven since I’ve grown older and have needed to work my energy off.

Dialing Roshan, the owner of the boxing club, I rest my head against my car seat and inhale slowly. He picks up on the third ring, his voice groggy as he says, “Yo. What’s up?”

“I’m at the club. Do you think you can come down and open a ring for me for a while?” I say on an exhale. I’ve known Roshan since school and we’ve been great friends since. He needed the money to buy this building to open his own gym and I invested in him, knowing he’d be successful as fuck. And now, he is. So, instead of paying me back any profit for my investment, he lets me use his gym, more specifically the boxing ring, whenever I want.

“Yeah,” he mutters and I hear rustles as he gets out of his bed and probably puts on a shirt or something. He’s a nasty motherfucker who likes to sleep all naked—something his wife sincerely dislikes, considering she mentions it every two minutes almost all the time. “Hey, Ritu,” he calls to his voice, probably as she wakes up because of him moving around and a few mumblings and annoying mooching sounds later, I hear the door of his house click.

Roshan hangs up and a minute later, I hear the entryway to the three-storey building open. I turn the ignition off on my car and step out, slapping his back as a form of hello and he leads me in.